


Piper

by Merlin Missy (mtgat)



Category: Gargoyles
Genre: Gen, Rats & Mice, Revisionist Fairy Tale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-27
Updated: 2011-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-26 14:36:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtgat/pseuds/Merlin%20Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Tragickal Historie of a Certain Unkept Bargain in Hamelntowne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Piper

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The Gathering 2008. With thanks to Sabledrake and KimberlyT.
> 
> Story-specific warnings in the end notes.

_"I have to go potty."_

 _Owen minimized the window on his computer, and then counted to ten slowly before he said, "You have already used the bathroom, Alexander. Twice."_

 _He raised his head to see Alex standing in the doorway of his office, green dinosaur pajamas getting just too short over his very bare feet. "Also, you appear to have misplaced your slippers again."_

 _Alex grinned. "I have to go."_

 _Owen sighed, and waved him off. "Go. You know the way."_

 _"I need help."_

 _Owen mentally debated the merits of arguing with the boy, who could use the toilet perfectly well and knew it, with simply assisting him so he could be tucked in quickly._

 _"Hurry up," Owen said, and let Alex lead him to the bathroom for the third time since he'd officially been put to bed._

 _Just as the toilet flushed, Alex said, "I want a drink, please."_

 _"No. You've already had a drink. It's bedtime."_

 _"I want a story, please."_

 _Owen's eyes narrowed. "Will you go to sleep if I read you a story?"_

 _"Yes!"_

 _"Do you promise?"_

 _"Yes!"_

 _"Do you understand I will turn you into something unpleasant if you do not go to sleep?"_

 _"Yes!" And to be fair, he probably did._

 _Alex leapt into his bed, bouncing only twice before Owen's glare stopped him cold. He slipped under the covers as Owen brought_ Goodnight Moon _over to the chair beside the bed._

"In the great green room …"

 _Alex took over immediately: "There was a telephone anna red balloon."_

 _Owen let the boy read the rest, turning the pages when necessary. Fox read this book to him three times a night every night, and when Alexander could wheedle it, David would read it four more times._

 _"Goodnight noises everywhere," Alex said, as Owen closed the book._

 _"Good night," said Owen, as he stood._

 _"I want another story, please."_

 _"No."_

 _"I want another story, please."_

 _This was the reason the child never stayed in his bed, never went to sleep until nearly ten every night. His parents would indulge him in his requests for stories, for drinks, for bathroom breaks, for quick trips up to the roof to say good night to the Clan, for repeat trips because Alexander had forgotten to tell Lexington about the drawing he did earlier, for still more trips because now Miss Elisa was there and Alexander needed another good night kiss._

 _David and Fox were out for the evening. Owen, sadly, held no illusions he was going to break the child of his bad habits before they returned home._

 _"I want another story, please."_

 _"Fine," Owen said. "One last story. I pick the story, and then I am locking your door." He shook his finger at Alexander. "And no levitating out the window, young man."_

 _"Okay."_

 _Annoyed, Owen grabbed the much-ignored book of Grimm's fairy tales from the bedroom bookshelf and flipped open to the table of contents. He scanned down until a title caught his eye._

 _He hadn't forgotten. He simply hadn't taken time to remember for many years. He opened to the page and scanned the words._

 _"I want a story, please."_

 _"I know," Owen said, distracted. "I'll tell you a story." He continued to read, far more astonished than he ought to have been at the ability of humans to misremember events._

 _"Owen … "_

 _"Sit." He waited until the boy was completely composed under his covers, and then he sat down beside him. He placed an un-Owenlike expression on his own face and said, "I will show you."_

 _Like a backwards sneeze, he changed and let out his true self, throwing in some purple sparkles for effect, because the Puck liked pizzazz. He clapped his hands together gleefully, because he could, and then called the various soft toys strewn about the room into his employ._

 _The grandest doll, a berobed wizard bear, floated in the middle. Puck patted it on the head. "This was me, circa 1284." The bear sketched a deep bow in the air as Alexander watched, delighted. Puck let the bear dance a moment in the air, as he considered how to tell the child what had happened, and how it had all gone so terribly wrong._

* * *

23 June, 1284

Hans chucked the reins as the cart rounded the curve and headed down towards the river. He could just see the daintily-fretted buildings of their destination come into view, nestled beside the Weser, as the monastery hovered over them like a disapproving spinster aunt. Or uncle, he supposed, and he laughed.

"Share the joke?" said Alfred, from the back of the cart.

"Nothing, my friend. Simply enjoying the morning."

They would be in Hameln well before midday, and could easily get in two performances before supper. The townspeople here were keen for new stories and silly carnival tricks, and Hans was more than happy to accept their gratitude until it was time to move on to the next little burg.

Two score years he'd spent on the road, and he loved this life more every day. With a good horse, a bag of tricks, and a quick tongue, a man could make his way in the world. Sometimes Hans had been forced to rely entirely on the last, and had still survived with a smile on his face.

A cold wind blew from the river, shocking in the hot June morning, and Hans remembered frozen, dark winters with no more than a loaf of bread to last him through a blizzarding fortnight. Bad times. He didn't like to think on those. Instead he glanced towards the back, where Alfred dangled his legs off the back of the cart, lounging in the sunshine. The boy had joined up with Hans five summers ago, and Hans had been blessed by Lady Luck ever since. The winds never blew too strongly, the horse never foundered, the villagers they met always greeted them with open purses and welcome arms. Even on the rare times they'd been chased out of towns ("Witches!" "Thieves!") the mad dashes had been invigorating escapes rather than terror-filled flights.

Even as Hans turned his attention back to the road, Alfred pulled his battered pipe from his sack and played a merry tune. The horse picked up her pace and Hans' heart was light.

They set up in a field just outside of town, brightly-colored ribbons streaming from the cart and the horse set to graze nearby.

"Step up! Step up!" Hans' voice carried through the clear air. "Come see the greatest wonders of the world!" He juggled five balls as he spoke, the ease of his long years of practice letting him flash and spin them high into the air. A few children had already walked over, giggling at the display. "Miracles and mayhem, astonishments and astounding acts! Come one! Come all! Bring your friends!"

Within an hour of setup, they usually had a decent-sized crowd, but after two hours, their only audience was half a dozen children, none more than seven years old. Or as Hans thought of them, non-paying customers. Alfred walked among them, pulling rocks and small sticks from their ears and noses as they laughed and cheered.

Alfred caught Hans' eye and shrugged. The first show would have to be for free.

Hans reached into his hat and pulled out a chicken, who squawked. Alfred made a comical off-balance gesture, pulled off his own hat and found an egg there. He pulled more eggs from his pockets, from his sleeves, even from his shoes, and he and Hans juggled the eggs and balls together, tossing them through the air.

Hans did the handkerchief trick, and Alfred the balancing stick trick. The day grew hot and Hans was tired, so without telling Alfred, he went into the cart and brought out the finale.

"Young ladies and lords! I present to you one of the most mysterious artifacts ever to travel the Earth. Once, long ago, the Caliph of Baghdad ordered his greatest sorcerers to create for him a means to travel, that he might woo the Queen of the Moon. The most powerful of the sorcerers created this!" Hans flung off the cover.

He'd found the mirror, abandoned in a wrecked hovel in which he'd sheltered for the night. When he'd fallen through it, quite by accident, he'd realized he was onto something much better than the old "disappearing sausage" trick. He'd met up with Alfred just two days later, and the boy had helped him figure out the mirror's secrets.

"May I please have a volunteer from the audience?"

Two hands shot up immediately, and another three crept into the air. Hans picked a boy from the front row. "What's your name, lad?"

"Karl."

"Karl, my friend Alfred here is going to lead you to where the Caliph went a thousand years ago. Are you ready to visit the Moon?"

The child swallowed and then nodded his head. Alfred took his hand, as Hans waved his hands over the mirror and shouted the nonsense words he'd made up one bored night:

"Ala-ka-bim! Ala-ka-boom! Transport these brave souls to the Moon!" Alfred led the child through the mirror. Then Hans took the mirror and dramatically spun it around so that the children could see that Alfred and Karl were not standing on the other side. There were gasps, and one little girl - she'd been standing beside Karl and looked to be his sister - burst into loud, braying tears.

"Fear not! For although the Caliph's sorcerer left his master abandoned on the Moon with his lady mistress, we shall not leave our friends behind. Ala-ka-boom! Ala-ka-bite! Return our brethren to our sight!"

On cue, Alfred and Karl reappeared with a glow, and stepped out of the mirror. The children applauded. Karl's sister launched herself at him and sobbed wordlessly into his shirt. Karl shoved her away, though gently, and laughed. "The Moon! I saw the Moon!"

"What was it like?" "Are you all right?" "I want to go!"

Karl related the story of his brief visit to the Moon as the rest of the children begged him with more questions. The Moon was hot, the Moon was full of sand, he'd seen a city in the distance, and men riding strange Moon-creatures with cloven feet and two humps. He didn't talk to his sister, but Hans noticed his exaggerated gestures towards her. The girl was deaf.

"Our brave explorers have returned," Hans said loudly, "but we must go. The magic mirror needs its rest. Come back again this afternoon and bring your parents and your friends!"

Hans and Alfred took a bow. Alfred recovered the mirror as Hans showed away the audience. The kids were still captivated by Karl's story, and asked him for more details, which he happily embellished as they walked away.

When the children were out of earshot, Hans said, "So the Moon is a desert this time?"

"I have a craving for figs. I think tonight I'll drop by Baghdad to purchase some."

Hans grinned; owning a magic mirror had plenty of advantages. "Speaking of payment, did the audience strike you as odd? Normally, we have three times that many in Hameln."

"Word will spread. It always does."

They were, if not rich, at least well-provisioned from their last town. Hans took a few coins from their sack and two of their posters - lettered by Alfred, but the space taken up mostly by a brightly-colored picture of Hans juggling on stilts - and together they headed into the town.

While the streets were by no means empty, Alf (as he'd thought of himself these past five years) noticed how few townspeople were about. Normally, Hameln was bustling at this time of day. A river town was rarely idle while the sun shone, not while there was trading to be done.

"I thought Johannisnacht was tomorrow," Hans said. "Today should be for feasting and playing and giving us a great deal of money."

"You only ever have money on your mind."

"Not true," said Hans. "Sometimes I think of food and drink!" He shined a smile on Alf that lingered just a little longer than it could have. Then he snatched the hammer Alf was carrying and tacked up their poster on the side of a building where the townspeople would see.

Alf kept an eye on those same townspeople. The men wore their pants in an odd style here, tucking the pantlegs into their shoes and boots. The women's dresses were gathered closely at the ankles, making them mince their steps as they walked. Curious. The fashionable style elsewhere in Lower Saxony and Westphalia gave to flowing skirts that could raise and drop easily, a feature which Alf had come to appreciate during their many travels.

Midsummer was less than a day away. Normally, he would slip away for an evening or two around the holidays, go visit with his cousins, maybe start a war or two for fun, and then be back where Hans could find him by breakfast. Hans was right; it was time to party. His powers itched to come out, his extra senses tickling for attention. Alf looked around, and he saw the rats. Nesting under rooftops. Crawling through walls. Thousands. More.

Ah.

* * *

 _"Something else you should know, my beamish boy. Those fellows who study the old tales, they always have their theories. They'll swear up and down on anyone's mother's grave that the rats were a later addition to the story. The truth of it is that the rats were added back later. They were always part of the tale."_

* * *

Alf relaxed. Rats were nothing major. A minor nuisance here, a slightly larger plague there. Where humans went, rats followed, feasting on the leftovers and the garbage and often the food as well. Hameln wasn't the first town to see an overabundance of the creatures, and wouldn't be the last. The past handful of centuries had been warmer than he recalled from the wanderings of his boyhood, and as the population of humans had swelled, so had the numbers of vermin feeding off their scraps.

He nudged Hans. "My friend, I think we'll find little welcome here. Perhaps we should move on."

Hans followed his gaze. Alf was certain Hans didn't see the rats in the walls, but he nodded all the same. "Let's spend the night, at least. We might can charm a few coins from them yet."

Alf quietly mused that Hans wanted to stay because his joints were starting to ache again. Age was unkind to mortals. "We'll stay," he said. "But just for the night."

The early evening performance was better attended than the first had been. The child Karl had told everyone he could about his trip to the Moon, and a chance to see real magic on Midsummer's Eve was too good to pass up. Alf led a pair of children through the mirror this time, and they each brought back a handful of sand as proof of their journey. When Hans passed his hat at the end of the show, they collected a single warm egg as payment. Alf suspected Karl had brought it directly from under the chicken.

After their supper (the egg cooked with figs) they fed and watered the horse, then made their camp beside the cart. Hans liked to keep his bedroll close to Alf's, the better to protect them both from assailants he always said. Tonight, though, Alf intended to be alone, and pretended insomnia until Hans finally fell asleep to the gentle whuffling of the horse and the distant croak of frogs.

When he was certain Hans would not wake up, Alf slipped off his borrowed form and felt the magics of the day soak into him. The Puck shivered with glee to wear his own body again.

On Avalon, Midsummer had been a time for great festivals, at least until that unfortunate evening between his King and Queen. He ached to find his friends tonight, longed to jump through his King's mirror and go seek out a cousin or two. Maybe he'd go visit Loki and raise some Hel.

* * *

 _"That's a joke, by the way."_

 _Alexander stared up at him, not understanding, and worse still, not laughing._

 _"Hel was the name of Loki's daughter, you see."_

 _Still nothing._

 _"Oh, never mind."_

* * *

Puck stared into the dying embers of their fire, casting his mind out to see if anyone was about. As he opened his mental shields, the vision hit him like a punch:

Women, children and men too, their bodies covered in black, dying flesh. Rats, rats everywhere, and with them the killers too small to be seen, hiding aboard ships floating home manned by dead sailors. Bodies stacked like cordwood, too many to bury. Famine, and famine's own pale master wielding a sharp scythe across Europe, not Anubis' gentle paw but a vicious bite. Families wiped out. Villages vanished. Death was coming. Death and rats.

Puck woke abruptly in the early morning light. He shimmered back into Alf's form, and could not manage to smile as Hans woke soon after.

* * *

Hans could tell Alfred was bothered. Instead of packing up the cart and leaving, Alfred insisted on staying another day and trying their luck again. Although the same group of children came back for two more performances, minus the little deaf girl, none of them brought any food or coins, which was just as well since Alfred dropped his juggled eggs twice. At least that made the children laugh. He even botched the trip through the mirror. When Alfred led the children, the girls each reported something different: a hot, wet forest with great, dripping leaves for one, while the other found bitter cold snow on the Moon, and short little beaked Moon Men in black and white clothes.

Alfred wouldn't talk about it.

After the second performance, Hans went into the town alone. He had a bad feeling about this place, and wanted to get it behind them as soon as they could go, but if Alfred insisted on staying longer, he was going to find out what was going on.

A coin at the local tavern bought him a light supper, and another bought him some gossip from the boy who delivered the food. Alfred had said he'd seen rats around, but the tavern boy said it was more than just rats. His mam said that Hameln was under a curse. Hans didn't believe in curses, but the tavern boy was handsome, seventeen years old if a day, and Hans had brought enough money to keep his mug filled and the talk flowing.

There'd been a wizard, or maybe a beggar. Someone had come looking for succor during a storm, and the townsfolk had not heard his cries or maybe they'd ignored him. Perhaps he'd had his child with him and the child had died in the snow. The tavern boy wasn't sure of the details but he was sure as he could be that the beggar/wizard had cursed the town.

Rats! They were in the grain stores and ran rampant at the docks. They made their way into babies' cribs and spoiled mothers' dinners. Even as Hans watched and listened, he could hear the rustling in the walls of dozens of tiny bodies scrabbling around together. He shuddered and sipped at his mug.

* * *

 _"The silliest superstition humans ever invented about rats is the one about the Rat King. Humans got it into their heads that rats knotted their tails together and became a kind of Super Rat, when the truth is, rats have kings and queens just like humans and Oberon's Children do. The kings and queens are the oldest, the smartest, the ones who've survived the most poisons and traps. Give me a ragged-eared old grey rat missing half its tail, and I'll show you a king."_

* * *

Hans hadn't been hard to push into going into town. Alf waited until he was gone, then made himself invisible and followed. The Rat King would live where the food was most plentiful, so Alf headed towards the granary.

The guards barely noticed him. One gave a sharp laugh for no reason, the other was suddenly reminded of a fine spring day ten years past, and Alf made no more noise than the soughing of the summer wind.

Standing outside the granary, he could feel the rats in their runs. He was a giant to them, but only if he chose. He willed himself to their size and shape, then scampered inside.

It had been many a year since the Puck had taken on rodent form. Hart often, and sometimes hawk, and once a butterfly to tease a unicorn from her woods, but rats were not his style. Many minutes it took him to adjust to the new array of senses before he caught his bearings enough to search for the Rat King's den.

Outside, two burly rat guards watched, but now he was not invisible and wanted audience. The rats sniffed him and drew back, frightened. He crawled inside.

The Rat King rested on a bed of pulled wool, his sleek daughters around him nibbling on a bit of purloined cheese. Puck bowed low and the King bobbed his head.

"Fairy," said the King in rat-speech.

Puck nodded. Rats were brighter than humans in many ways and could not be tricked by so crude a thing as form.

"I come as a seer," said Puck. "I have been given a terrible vision. Men and rats dying together in the streets. Pups and babes both dead before their time."

The King bobbed his head again. "What can be done?"

"You must take your people and leave this place. I can lead you to a boat and far down the river where there are no men, no poisons or traps. You will be safe."

The King made a noise that in human speech would be rendered "Pshaw!" He said, "River rats. We've met those. Not worthy of us. We fight the traps and spit out their poison."

"It is the only way," Puck said. "Death will come. I have seen it. You may be spared."

"Let me consider," said the King. One of his daughters brought Puck a bite of cheese to gnaw while the King sat and ruminated. Puck nibbled out of politeness and waited.

At last, the Rat King said, "It is wisdom to follow the seer. We will go."

"Thank you," said Puck. "Tomorrow. I shall play a tune, and you may follow me to safety."

"Tomorrow," the king agreed. "But," he said, a growl in his squeak, "do not cross us, fairy."

"Never," said the Puck.

* * *

 _"And I meant it. But the Rat King was clever. After I left, he called his sons around him, and ordered the five biggest and bravest to lead the rats when I called. The King himself and all his daughters would stay in their holes. If the pact were true, the brothers would send two of their number home to fetch the rest."_

* * *

"You're back late," said Hans from his bedroll. "I thought I'd find you here when I returned."

"Business," said Alfred. "I think you should take the horse and the cart and go in the morning. I'll catch you up in Coppenbrügge."

"Have you gotten yourself in trouble again, dear Alf?"

"Of course!"

Hans laughed, but he watched Alfred carefully the rest of the night all the same.

In the morning when he woke, Alfred was gone, his pack stowed neatly in the cart. Hans readied the horse, but the back of his shoulders itched for reasons he could not say. Alf was right. He ought to head along and find a better town. Certainly it was not the first time they'd parted ways, and Alf was fast to find him again each time.

He stayed, and walked into town instead.

Hameln was all a-flurry. Peasants and fine folk all piled up near the town hall, trying to catch a glimpse of something. Hans jostled his way forward, catching the whispers and rumors as he went: a magician, a ratcatcher, someone come to help.

At last, the mayor stepped out and addressed the townspeople: "My good citizens, we have received great fortune! This man," and he drew an oddly-dressed man outside to stand next to him, "has come to free us from the rats!" The crowd went wild with cheers.

The man waved and offered a wry smile. "Thank you. All I ask is that you provide me a boat for the rats and safe passage once aboard, and they will never darken your town again."

"A boat! A boat!"

The mayor stretched his arm. "You may use my own boat," he said smoothly. "Please, free our town."

The man nodded, and as the assembled crowd watched him, he brought a pipe to his lips and played a sweet melody. Nothing special, a bit catchy, and Hans hummed under his breath as he listened.

Someone screamed.

From the woodwork, from the rooftops, from the streets themselves, rats poured in around them. Citizens panicked and ran, but the rats appeared not to notice, swirling and lining up to attention at the piper's call.

Careful not to hurt a single one - and glancing oddly from to time to time as if searching for a particular ratty face and not seeing it - he stepped gaily into the street with the rats following close behind. The mayor struck out ahead of him, half-terrified, to ready his boat. Many of the townsfolk followed, as did Hans, just to watch the strange spectacle.

The mayor, red-faced and huffing, rejoined the piper halfway to the docks, and he shouted above the music: "The boat! It's ready!" He followed along at a slower pace then, behind piper and rats, clutching his side.

Hans hid his grin. The out-of-breath mayor was a delightful sight, sure, especially surrounded by dancing rats, but the thing that made him the most gleeful was simple recognition. He would know that battered pipe anywhere.

As they reached the docks, the piper led the rats aboard the readied vessel. Big grey and black bodies poured onto the decks, covering every space and scurrying up the ropes. At last, the piper finished his tune with a sweet trill, and he bowed to great applause.

The mayor's men released the mooring ropes, setting the boat adrift on the river. The piper waved a lazy goodbye, just as the mayor gave an order to one of his own guards.

Hans watched, too far to stop him, too far even to shout, as the guard gave a signal, and five archers shot flaming arrows into the barrels of cooking oil on the boat's deck.

* * *

 _Puck shivered. He hated this part of the story._

 _"The mayor was clever, too. He thought fast and had the oil loaded on the boat as quick as you please. What better way to make sure the rats would never come back? Some of the rats escaped, of course. Rats swim, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. But so many of them burned. I'd have burned too, but I can fly. The Rat King lost his five sons."_

 _Alex started to sniffle, and Puck soothed him. "Fairy tales are not for children. Do you want me to stop?"_

 _"No."_

 _"All right."_

* * *

Alf returned, tired and beaten, to the field where they had made camp, and he was not entirely surprised to find Hans still sitting there with his face in his hands. Hans leapt up and embraced him with a sob. Alf patted his back until he composed himself.

"How did you survive?"

"I know how to swim," he said, and that was enough for now.

It was night before he could make his way back to the granary and the King. His impulse was to flee the town, but he felt he owed the King an apology and also his sympathies. Had he not come, the deaths would perhaps have come in a different form, and perhaps not for many years. Visions were tricky things.

The guards snarled at him as he approached, but he pushed past. "My King … "

The Rat King threw himself at Puck and clawed at his eyes. Puck pulled back and away, defending himself.

"Liar! Traitor!"

"No! I tried to take your people to safety!"

The King's voice was lost in angry squeaks. "I will eat you, and I will send my people to eat their children alive! Every last one of their pups will suffer for this!"

"Wait! I beg you! A trade!"

"What trade for the lives of my sons?"

"My pipe. I will give you my pipe, only stay your wrath a single night."

The King growled, but the offer of the magical pipe was tempting even now. He could be a Rat Emperor, and Puck knew it.

"One night. Tomorrow night, their children die, and if I find you within the town again, so do you."

* * *

26 June, 1284

Puck hated Sundays, and always spent them far outside of towns. Just the faintest sounds of the iron church bells put him off for hours. But this morning's work was ahead of him, so he'd stopped his ears with wax and Hans' help, and he'd hugged his friend one last time and kissed him on the forehead, and now he stood alone in the town square with his pipe in his hands.

It wasn't the song, it was the spell. He knew that, and now Hans knew it though he'd sworn never to tell as he'd driven their cart out of sight. The simple song beckoned them, and the spell drew them, smiling and laughing in their Sunday best, dancing down the street towards his siren call. Babes just large enough to walk. Girls and boys in the first flush of adolescence. Children of all ages, they giggled and they played, and they left their parents behind as Puck led them through the town and far away.

He'd hidden the mirror inside the mouth of a cave in the foothills of the Ith. He added a little magic to the children's steps and they were too fast to catch by their desperate parents, even the bright ones who'd gone back for their horses. By the time they reached their destination, their pursuers were specks in the distance, and would not see their final departure here where the ancient cults once held their rites.

Puck danced his mournful dance, and played his merry song, and led them one and all through the mirror and beyond, and stole it behind him as he went through last.

* * *

 _"I asked a favor of old Baba Yaga. She had villages gone empty from sickness, you see. The children grew up in new homes hundreds of miles away. It was a hard life, but better I think than being eaten by rats." He didn't add how he'd thought of it, how he'd heard the legend once upon a time of a castle in Scotland, and a mysterious red gargoyle who'd appeared in fire one night to save all the clan's hatchlings right before tragedy fell. There would be a time for that story, but it wouldn't be his to tell._

 _"Did you give your pipe to the king?"_

 _"I did, and very cleverly, too. I'll tell you the story tomorrow night, if you're good. Now it's time for you to go to sleep," he said, transforming back to the human form he wore these days. "Your parents will be home soon and they'll be cross if you're still awake."_

 _"Okay." Alex slid deeper under the covers. Then he asked sleepily, "Did all the kids really go away?"_

 _"All but one," said Owen, and he turned off the light and closed the door._

* * *

Hameln was filled with the sounds of weeping. Mothers clutched toys to their breasts, as fathers beat the ground with their fists. Grandparents sobbed inconsolably. Hilda could see their pain, although she did not hear them as she comforted her mamma. She'd never learned to speak, but she used her hands to dry her mother's tears and to try to tell her not to cry.

Hilda knew Karl and his friends were safe and happy. They'd gone to live on the Moon.

* * *

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Story contains imagery including but not limited to the Black Death, being eaten alive by rats, and death by fire.


End file.
